Leap
by edka88
Summary: In the last few months, the Phantom has been giving out orders much more often than before, and the culmination of events finally drove Christine to do the unthinkable: she announced that she would never sing on stage again. *A belated entry for NotAGhost3's 2nd annual Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest.


Hello dear readers! It's been forever, and I'm truly sorry for my prolonged silence. Hopefully my muse returned with the intention of staying.:) I wish you all a happy holiday season!

Many thanks to my dear friend and editor, Masha, for patiently correcting my stupid grammar mistakes. :)

Edit: Story was second runner-up in Not A Ghost's 2nd annual Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest. Yay!:)

Also, a very special thanks to AnotherSilentObserver for her invaluable help in the final editing of the story. Thank you so much! :)

* * *

She pulled the door shut behind her, dimming the excited sounds of laughter and running and talking of the other girls in the corridors.

The feverish noise of Christmas Eve. Her most favourite night of all.

Christine closed her eyes for a brief moment, almost cringing when emotions began to swell in her chest as her eyes began to burn.

 _Not here._

She crossed the small storage area and started for the short flight of steps that led to the roof.

In the previous years, she would skip around the different rooms with the other girls, decorating the halls and chambers for the holiday. In the previous years, she was anxious for the evening to come, when they would share a festive meal together and sing Christmas carols until bedtime. In the previous years, she would be anxiously waiting for midnight, when she would slip from the room she shared with Meg and make her way downstairs where she could safely meet her Angel for their usual Christmas conversation.

This year, she would have none of those things.

Turning to the left, Christine reached the stairs and began the short journey upstairs.

Three months ago she had been utterly convinced that this year would be no different from all the previous ones.

Two months ago she had discovered that her angel was, in fact, a very mortal, very fallible man.

And that was when hell was unleashed.

Part of her still regretted that it had been caused by her actions, another part of her was equally indignant that the idea of being at fault ever occurred to her, but the biggest part of her simply _hurt_. She hadn't seen _him_ for weeks and – she missed him deeply.

Gripping the railing, she continued up on the stairs.

Today was supposed to have been the most joyful day of the year. Never before had she dreaded more what tomorrow would bring.

A leap of faith, she had thought when making the decision. And now she was left without a future, but... most probably she had saved _him_ with it. She was still not sure if she wanted him to know it or not.

Having reached the top of the stairs she turned to the right to cross the small landing that led directly to the roof, swallowing when tears began to scratch the back of her throat.

What was _he_ doing?

She reached for the handle, trying to ignore the small waver of her arm.

This could have been the very first year when they could spend Christmas Eve together without the mirror separating them. Instead, he was probably alone down in the cellars and she was dreading a future that she had just carved for herself.

Her chest shuddered and she bit down on her lower lip before that could start trembling, too.

If only she could chase away the picture of him, hiding from the celebrating rest of the humanity, alone in the darkness.

Cold wind stung at her cheeks as she stepped out onto the roof and she took a deep breath of wonder at the thick sheet of snow that wrapped everything in a glittery white blanket –

Her heart skipped a beat.

– except for the dark shadow next to the balustrade.

Apparently she was late in trying to catch the gasp that started in her chest because the shadow whirled around, a small piece of white _something_ disappearing between the folds of his clothes.

"Enjoying the view for one last time before retiring?" came his voice, and she shuddered with delight at the familiarity of it.

"It's far too early to go to bed," she replied, holding onto the handle of the still open door behind her.

Instead of answering, Erik shook his head slightly. "I've heard your announcement." His soft voice was almost absorbed by the thick sheet of snow, still the air was knocked out of her lungs at hearing it as the finality of her decision weighed down on her shoulders with a renewed force.

She opened her lips but the words fled her before she could utter anything.

For the hundredth time that day, she cursed herself for having made such a hasty, heedless decision – and for the hundredth time that day, she reminded herself why she had done it in the first place. As torturous as the future now seemed, she would probably make the same decision again.

He let out a brief sigh and then it was him who finally broke the silence. "Tomorrow morning the managers will find a letter declaring that the new production is cancelled and they are free to stage any opera of their liking. And you..." Briefly, he closed his eyes and his shoulders sunk with a heavy sigh. "You are free to do as you wish. If you want to marry that boy, do so. I will not interfere with your plans."

He trailed off as if out of breath and then turned around so that all she could see was his back.

And the soft tremor that shook it.

A light breeze swept across the roof, carrying a thin sheet of snow with it from the surrounding statues, and the cold bit at her cheeks. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and watched him, waiting to see if he would say anything else.

He did not.

Her throat tightened and she held her breath, dreading the moment when she would see another tremor running through his back and yet was unable to tear her eyes away for fear she would miss the subtle movement that might confirm her fears.

Her heart was thumping in her throat.

Still, his back was motionless, and she began to wonder if he was breathing at all.

Shivering, she finally shut the door and before she knew it, she had already started on a path that was leading to him.

He did move then, when snow crackled beneath her feet with the first step, his back straightening immediately, but he didn't turn to her.

She kept moving, slowly closing the distance between them. In the end, she stopped right next to him and he bowed his head deeply so that most of the uncovered side of his face was concealed in the shadows. Something stung in her chest at how well-practiced, natural the gesture seemed.

Wetting her lips, she softly asked, "What about the demands of the opera ghost?"

"Forget them," he wheezed, shifting on his feet. "Music has always been the greatest solace for me and I wanted to teach you the same, to find peace and comfort in it. I realized too late that I caused you to think of it as the complete opposite." He trailed off and his eyes lifted to hers for the briefest moment before turning back to the trodden snow at their feet. "I hope you will find it in yourself to forgive me one day."

"You speak as if you won't be there to hear it." She had to force the words through her tightening throat as she watched him; he shifted on his feet before lifting his eyes back to hers.

"I won't. I'm leaving."

A gust of wind whistled past them, its cold stealing beneath her coat and settling around her heart.

 _Leaving_.

"When?! Where?!" She managed to choke out.

"Far enough so that you don't need to dread my presence. Just promise me you will continue to sing."

 _Leaving. He will be leaving._

Her eyes began to burn.

"Will it make any difference?" She said, turning away so he wouldn't see as a tear rolled down her face. "You won't be here to listen to it."

"For a long while – I believe – it was what caused you the greatest joy of all. I want to know you will be happy again – even if you can only be with someone else. I will not trouble you anymore."

She almost took a step back when the sudden memory of her finding him here tonight returned: alone on the top of the opera house, looking over the balustrade running around the edge of the roof. His shape shifted in front of her eyes for a moment and belatedly she realized that she was not breathing. She gasped on the next breath. "You were not considering a leap, were you?" Her voice trembled even in her whisper.

"I wouldn't risk being found in broad daylight. No." Taking a step to the side, he leaned over the balustrade, looking down on the people who were rushing home on the snowy pavements. "I was merely observing the people below. Bustling on the streets before retreating to their homes with their loved ones." His voice sounded detached and nonchalant, but she knew him well enough to know that he hadn't told her everything. When she had come up here, she had seen him hide something in his cape – she wondered what it might have been.

"Why are you here?" She was snapped out of her reverie by his sudden question, and when she looked up from the streets, she found that his eyes had been examining her closely. "Surely you have a better place to spend this evening; I know how you love the winter holiday."

By all means, she shouldn't have been there. She was to spend the holiday break in a beautiful mansion, planning and preparing for her comfortable future life.

That is, it had been the plan until just this morning.

She fiddled with the fringes of her shawl while trying to ignore the blood pounding in her ears.

"Erik, it's not because of your demands that I decided to stop singing," she blurted out finally.

His eyes snapped back to hers with genuine surprise and something squeezed her heart. "Why, then?" came his soft question a moment later.

As if a measure so drastic could only be triggered by his actions...

She swallowed quickly before tears could gather in her throat again.

"This morning... Raoul came up with what he deemed to be an ingenious solution to save me, as he put it," she began, and he slowly turned to examine the snow that piled up on top of the statue on his right, but she noticed how his hand curled into a fist despite his seemingly calm demeanour. "He decided that the theatre _should_ perform your opera, after all, because then you would surely appear to see me sing and then he could capture you."

He whirled around so suddenly that she almost took a step back in surprise. "He wanted to use you as bait?!" He wheezed and the air trembled in her throat at the barely contained anger blazing in his eyes.

Her knees felt weak, as her mind began to furiously search for any memories that might give her a hint as to where Raoul could be right now.

 _Hopefully out of the country already._

"I told him I didn't want to perform at all," she continued, looking away and to the side but even so she felt the weight of his eyes on her face. "...and risk being abducted, but he assured me I had nothing to fear as the auditorium would be filled with gendarmes with orders to shoot you should you attempt to take me with you." She trailed off when her voice cracked, and her hand twitched, yearning to reach out to take his but too afraid to do so. She curled her fingers into fists instead. After a heartbeat of silence she glanced up at him: he was looking over at the still bustling people beneath on the streets, his shoulders moving with unsettlingly even breaths.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself against the shudder that ran down her spine.

"I tried to convince him that he couldn't possibly act upon a plan that had been formed within only a few hours and asked him to reconsider but he told me that all was set and he had already settled everything with the gendarmerie." He took a few steps but then he stopped only a couple of feet away from her, his back towards her. "This happened during the morning break of today's rehearsals."

"And so in a couple of minutes you decided to abandon singing altogether," he said evenly.

"I didn't know what to do!" She let out a deep sigh to try to calm her suddenly racing heart. "At least I tried to act confident, to make my hasty decision more credible. I already knew that the gendarmes would shoot you even during the play, but going through with the performance was equally unthinkable. He told me that even if you chose not to show up, you would certainly linger somewhere near and so the other plan was to search the opera house and capture you after the performance ended. I already knew enough of your past to be sure of the verdict should they succeed in finding you." She trailed off and his back straightened; she waited for him to say something but when he did not, she continued. "I hoped that his plans were only rudimentary and I didn't want him to form a more intricate plan so I had to act quickly. Giving up singing seemed to be the only thing I could control without anyone interfering with it. As the actress of the theatre I couldn't possibly refuse to perform unless I had my influential fiancé supporting my decision, and he happened to be of the complete opposite opinion."

"I didn't hear him object when you made the announcement," he said.

"He wasn't there; he only learnt about it when he returned to invite me to lunch." For a second, her heart felt as heavy as it had in the moment Raoul had realized the truth, the memory of the look in his eyes sending a chill down her spine with the realization that he probably knew it sooner than she herself. "I think I ended it all well before I said the actual words," she muttered.

"All?" The man in front of her asked, turning to her a little, but all she could see was the light glistening on the surface of his mask.

"He was not impressed with the progress of events, to put it mildly. He stated I was clearly under your influence and couldn't think straight, at one point he even suggested that you forced me to make the decision just to thwart his efforts at rescuing me from your thrall." She let out a short sigh before adding, "I think I broke up our engagement when he offered to save me for the third time."

He whirled around at that and threw a brief glance down at her empty left hand; when his eyes lifted to meet hers again, her stomach trembled at the intense emotions swirling in them. And yet for a long moment he remained silent, his eyes roaming over her face and the skin began to crawl on her nape. The strange look was gone as fast as it had come, though, and he said softly, "You had such a bright future ahead of you and I don't want to ruin it. Maybe it's still not too late to tell him you've changed your mind."

"That would be a lie because I haven't," she replied, surprised at how calm she felt when saying the words.

"You agreed to be his wife months ago," he retorted.

"Yes." She remembered that moment all too clearly: she had been conscious of her great fortune – and all too aware of the happiness she _should have_ felt. Briefly she wondered if her mental state was indeed faulty, as some of the people had started suggesting recently. "And almost immediately I began to notice how far apart the two of us were. We had literally nothing in common except for those few weeks spent together as children. That seemed a rather poor foundation for a lifetime together when I already knew what it felt like to be in love."

She realized immediately that she had said too much and now the blood was pounding in her ears in the sudden silence.

It had been rather long ago that she had come to terms with the fact that she was in love with a faceless voice, but it was only recently that she realized she loved the man behind it, too. She knew all too well that he was far from perfect, and the crimes he had committed would warrant the most severe punishment. And now he wanted to disappear from her life altogether so that she could have a brighter future...

"I don't want you to leave," she gasped, and when she met his eyes again, she was faced with a dark turmoil of emotions, all warring with each other.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something white from it – a piece of cloth, she realized, the one he had hidden when she had stepped out onto the roof.

"I came up here to strengthen my resolve," he said, unfolding the fabric in his hands. "And I was debating with myself whether to take this with me as a keepsake."

"My handkerchief," she said, now recognizing it. "I've been looking for this forever! Where did you find it?"

"You left it with me when you first came down to my house," he replied, folding the material again but not giving it back to her. "I love you, Christine, and knowing you are happy would make it easier to accept it was not with me. Having a reminder of the time you spent with me would be torturous – but I was not strong enough to part with it, either."

"Then don't," she said, placing her hand over the white lace in his palm and curling her fingers around his hand. She felt his hand twitch in her hold but he didn't return it. "Knowing you've kept it would always remind me of what might have been." His fingers twitched around hers again, a timid echo of her hold. "I love you," she breathed, and a moment later felt the beginning the softest brush against the back of her hand. Then it ended almost immediately.

"Don't say that," he pled, his eyes slipping closed for a moment. "I'd be forever haunted by your words when I wake up."

Air trembling in her chest, she took a step closer to him. "But then I'll be there to remind you of it again and again."

"You cannot... Why would you...?" He stammered, but at the same time he captured her hand with his, the black of his glove creating a stark contrast against her skin as their hands meld together. "You saw everything – and what you _know_ might be even worse."

"I also know that you endured several sleepless nights just to comfort me. That you have written numerous simple songs just to entertain me while I was still learning to sing. That one time you procured me a plate of linzers in the middle of the night, simply because I realized I had had some such a long time ago." One trembling hand reached out then swept a short caress down on her hair; when she turned slightly to check what it was, she saw a couple of snowflakes already sitting on her shoulder.

"I've imagined this so many times before; I so wish that this time it would be real," he told her, his thumb venturing a light brush against her cheek.

Blood rushed to her cheeks as she asked with a smile, "Would you let me prove it?"

It was the first time she saw the hesitant beginning of a smile of his own as he nodded his consent.

She leaned up to kiss him on the lips and after a stunned moment he shyly returned it while the swirling white crystals continued to dance and drift around their embracing frames.

\- o -

Hasty decisions rarely have beneficial outcomes and the fact she had already made two of those without any disastrous effect today convinced her that she had tempted fate quite enough.

And so they only married the next day.


End file.
